


8:13

by wild_abu



Category: Love Victor (TV 2020)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Self-Harm, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:53:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24982627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wild_abu/pseuds/wild_abu
Summary: 8:13 is when the world stopped for Victor.8:53 is when it stopped for everyone else.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 54





	8:13

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings: Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts and Suicide.

8:13 is when the world stopped. He almost didn’t notice it at first, he was is his bathroom at the time. He didn’t notice that the song of the crickets had ceased to exist from that point on. He didn’t notice that the hum of the fridge and the click of the clock had gone and left in its place a silence that made his brain make up for it with an incessant ringing. The trees stilled and looked like a picture. 

He didn’t notice it until he left the bathroom, left the apartment, paying no mind to his sister sitting on her phone or his brother doing some homework or his mother collecting clothing off of the floor of the laundry room and he didn’t think about his father looking in the fridge. When he finally did leave he was in a state of awe at the cars on the road. A man on the phone red faced, and in the middle of a yell was gripping the steering so hard his knuckles were white as a sheet. The car was void of both movement and sound.He walked in front of it and waited for the car to begin its movement again. It never came. He walked on and kept walking all around the town to see the kids playing the last of their night in the yard catching fireflies. To see the waitress turning to a customer with a pot of coffee. To see the librarian walking to her car with her arms full of books. To see to parents fighting in their house. As the kids looked out the window a floor above. To see a homeless man sitting on a bench, his posture and eyes tired. He kept walking in the dusk of 8:13, he tried keeping track of the time by counting the seconds, but it always fell away in his brain as he saw a new view. He walked for hours? Days? Until he reached the coast. The waves were stopped like small hills in the ocean. The sea foam was like a sponge where the edge of the land met the edge pf the sea. He felt warm and calm when he knew deep down that he should feel panic at the state of where he was and what was happening, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He wanted to put his foot in the water feel something after so long of hearing, seeing and feeling nothing. No wind, no crickets, no voices and nobody else.He wanted to see something move. See the water ripple around him to see something anything that wasn’t still. He knew he shouldn’t. He sat at the beach and thought sometimes about nothing and sometimes about everything. He was ready. He walked into the ocean and smiled when every step was met with movement. 

In a blink he was back in his bathroom, the time was 8:13 he looked down to where he held a blade in one hand and the blood that was dripping down his other arm. He felt warm and calm like on the beach. He could hear the click of the clock as the seconds passed. He could hear the song of the crickets and the hum of the fridge. He heard the cars passing outside. Everything was okay. He wasn’t scared. He thought he would be. He sat the same way he did at the beach and he waited. He felt the warmth and the peace, and he let it overtake him. 

He didn’t hear the scream from his sister when she found him or the crying from his mother. He couldn’t respond to his brother asking why he was sleeping nor could he call out to his father as he called an ambulance, he couldn’t tell them it was too late. He couldn’t stop them as the paramedics unknowingly bandaged his gashes that would never heal. 

He was gone on the ride to the hospital, gone when they shocked his heart, gone when they called the time of death, 8:53. He couldn’t tell them that he was finally okay. He couldn’t tell them to save their tears for all the happy moments. 

He couldn’t tell them to find the notes that were on his desk, handwritten for each of his friends and family and signed with a simple

Love, Victor. 

**Author's Note:**

> Just gonna leave this here.


End file.
